


His Scent

by MaraudersInn_HoneydukesHowler



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Claiming, Love Bites, M/M, Scent Kink, Scenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudersInn_HoneydukesHowler/pseuds/MaraudersInn_HoneydukesHowler
Summary: Based off of a Tumblr post I added to
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 611





	1. Chapter 1

It's stronger,

His scent durning sex. 

It invades Geralt's senses and he drinks it up, revels in it, bathes in it. Holds him tighter as he fucks into Jaskier slowly, deeply. He basks in his moans, the way his voice hiccups around the Witcher's name. 

He grips a calf, thigh, his hip-

His arm, his shoulder, cards his fingers through damp locks, slick with sweat; he grips Jaskier's hand, stretching his lanky body out across the forest floor. 

And, he's buried deep in the bard. 

Soaking in his scent, imprinting it on himself, and in turn imprinting his scent into Jaskier, because he can't get enough, will never, won't ever...

He's obsessed. 

Geralt bites and marks his body, feral with his scent, as he wraps his body around the bard, encasing him with his arms and savoring him with every, single, breath. 


	2. Brothel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part of a drabble that I might add onto.

The scent of sex and smoke and lust and ale clouded the air, almost suffocating the Witcher, invading all his senses, as he walked into the bar and brothel. He found an empty booth at the back of the building, away from the lecherous men and women pawing at passing whores as they drink their fill of cheap mead. His head was beginning to pound unpleasantly with an oncoming headache. 

He waved one of the barmaids over. 

"What can I be gettin' you, Witcher?" She asked, fisting her hands on her hips. 

"Ale, and a lot of it." He replied as he looked about the brothel, seeing as anyone would catch his fancy. Despite being a mutant, one without supposed feelings, he still had needs to be filled. 

"Riight, anything else you be wantin'?" She pressed, leaning forward a bit and pushing her breast up with her arm. Geralt snorted softly. 

"I'll let you know." He rumbled. The barmaid winked at him and bustled off to fetch his drink. Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the sounds around him, just for a moments peace. 

" _A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing.  
His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow."_

He opened his eyes as music filled the air, golden eyes cutting through the bodies to find the source of the sweet voice. A young man sat on the bar, a lute in hand as he plucked at the strings; his body was donned with a lavish attire, made of silk-that was cut to show off the smooth, flat plains of his belly, where thin gold chains hung, wrapped around the thin material of his torso, accentuating his lean body; a heavy looking sapphire weighed down one chain in the middle of his abdomen, the jewel dipping into his navel in a way that set Geralt's teeth on edge. Hip bones peaked from loose pants, present a tantalizing preview for those that wished to bed him; the pants cuffed before his delicate looking ankles. His arms were bare, save for the golden bands around them. From his ears hung elegant lapis jewels and a gold collar was wrapped around his delicate throat, and from the collar hung more thin chains, chains that snaked down to the ones at his chest. Thick kohl decorated each eye, bringing an otherworldly quality to the bard's sharp blue orbs. 

The man glanced about tha room and stopped at Geralt, holding his gaze for a long moment, before he grinned and continued his tale. 

" _When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling,_  
_And asked if to work in her forge he would go._ _Rum, rum, rum. Rum, rum, rum._  
_In and out. In and out. Ho!"_

The crowd jeered and sung the jig with the man as he stepped down onto the floor, smiling as he continued to sing the jaunty tune, captivating the Witcher with his voice. 

_"I will," said the smith, and they went off together,_  
_Along to the young damsel's forge they did go._  
_They stripped to go to it, 'twas hot work and hot weather._  
_They kindled a fire and she soon made him blow."_

He danced around the people as they laughed and played along with him, enjoying themselves. Geralt watched with something akin to curiosity; this man held his interest. 

"That's Dandelion." The barmaid said, setting down his beer. "Good singer and an even better lay, if you're into that sort of thing. Works right here in the brothel, if you'd like to bed him for the night." 

Geralt grunted and looked back at 'Dandelion'. 

"How long has he been here?" 

"Almost a year, sings mostly, but he takes on clients when the money's low and the owner obliges 'im, mostly cause Dandelion brings in more customers-" 

"Therefore, more money." Geralt finished. She smiled and nodded. 

"I knew you'd be a smart one. His clients say he's a generous lover, kind and soft. Some men, and women, go there whole lives without that sort of treatment, so when they come here, they fulfill more than just the need for fucking a hole." 

He made a noncommittal hum and picked up the pitcher of ale again. 

_"Red hot grew his iron, as both did desire,_  
_And he was too wise not to strike while 'twas so._  
_Said she, "What I get I get out of the fire,_  
_So prithee, strike home and redouble the blow."_  
  
_Six times did his iron, by vigorous heating,_  
_Grow soft in her forge in a minute or so,_  
_But as often was hardened, still beating and beating,_  
_But the more it was softened, it hardened more slow."_

Before Geralt could fully register, the bard was standing next to him, patrons in front, still dancing and cheering and singing. He looked at the bard with a neutral expression and the pretty brunette just smiled and winked at him as he continued his song. Geralt snorted softly, going unheard under the sound of the bard's voice. He finished his pitcher and signaled the barmaid for another. She nodded, smirking at him as Dandelion leaned against his chair as he warbled out the last note of the song. Geralt just sighed, resigned to the ridiculousness of the bard. 

The crowd applauded and tossed coins onto the Witcher's table for Dandelion, who bowed graciously and picked them up, before sitting down across from Geralt. The barmaid set down two pitcher of ale before busying herself with another customer. 

They sat in silence for a moment, drinking each other in. 

"You know, I never expected to see you here after such a long time," Dandelion said, eyes glittering with mixed emotions. " _Geralt._ " He took a drink of his ale and smirked at the Witcher. 

Geralt looked at him with his gold eyes, lion's eyes, and hummed deep in his throat, moving closer to the bard until he could press his lips against the bard's ear.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it," Geralt murmured, drinking in the familiar scent of smoke and rose and now polished gold. " _Jaskier_."


	3. Brothel II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore the fact that I posted this incomplete, I'm still coming down from my high....
> 
> I also may or may not be high when I'm writing this so, whoops. 
> 
> I also suggest listening to the following while reading this: 
> 
> Magic Noire by Inigo Montoya  
> Desperado by Rihanna  
> Freak like Me by NoMBe  
> Could Be A Curse by KIANA

They came together in a flurry of frantic hands and breathy moans. Teeth biting and nails scratching, when they came together it was tortuous and soft and something to be savoured. 

Jaskier bit into Geralt's thick shoulder, whimpering as the Witcher tightened his hold on him, gridning deeply into him, agonizingly slow, and pressing gently into his sweet spot with every thrust. His long legs were wrapped around Geralt's waist and his cock was trapped between them, rubbing against sweat slicked stomachs. 

" _Fuck_." Geralt rumbled, moving his large hands from Jaskier's waist and shoulder, to his ass, and spreading him open as he picked up his pace, pistoning into the bard with fervor.

Jaskier moaned loudly and obscenely, meeting Geralt thrust for thrust, riding him. His cock slapped against his stomach and he pushed the Witcher down, splaying dexterous hands on broad chests. Geralt groaned, fingers spasming over slick thighs, as he reached for Jaskier's cock, wrapping his hand around it. The bard cried out, back arching as he thrust up into Geralt's loose fist. 

" _Gods, Geralt,"_ He moaned, slamming down harder on the thick cock inside of him. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, panting against the onslaught of pleasure wracking through his overstimulated body.

Geralt pressed the heels of his feet into the bed, hitting Jaskier's prostate head on, hammer into it until the bard could take anymore and spilled over Geralt's chest with a low drawn out moan. His dick twitched inside the bard as his asshole clenched and unclenched around it. He smirked at his Songbird and moved his hands to grip birdbone wrists, easily flipping them over. Geralt dragged his nose up Jaskier's neck, taking in his scent, letting it fill him up until he exhaled it with every breath. 

"You sing so _prettily,_ Jaskier." He rumbled, nipping at the soft skin behind his ear. 

The bard released a breathless huff. " _You_ are still hard, Geralt," He said, almost accusingly. The Witcher gave him a roguish smile. 

"Did you think we were really done?" He asked, eyes sparking with mirth. "I haven't had my fill of _you_ yet." Jaskier moaned, a little helplessly as the man kiss him ferociously, all tongue and slightly too sharp teeth, before pulling out and pistoning into him at a fast, unrelenting pace. The head of his cock grazed his sweet spot, lightly, and his own cock jerked feebly on his stomach, already dripping precum. 

Jaskier bit down on Geralt's lip, tugging at it gently and pulling the other man closer, wrapping his legs around furiously thrusting hips. He clenched around the older man's erection, edging on Geralt's own orgasm; the older man bared his teeth at the bard as he released his hands, clenching the bedspread instead- in return, his Songbird wrapped his arms around his shoulders, threaded one hand into his hair, loosing the ties that bound it, and the other gripped his back tightly. Jaskier arched his back, his mouth seeking out Geralt's, their tongues sliding together instantly, molding themselves to each other as they fed of each other's heady desire.

Geralt ripped his mouth away as he gasped harshly, hips stuttering as he released inside Jaskier; he buried his head on the hollow of his throat, closing his eyes and mouthing at the skin there. 

" _Fuck_." He murmured, reveling in the musky, salty sweat taste of the bard. Sighing, he pulled out of his Songbird and pulled them both up until they were lying comfortably against the pillows. Jaskier shifted and scrunched his nose at the feeling of oil and cum leaking out of his hole. 

"You left quite a mess of things, didn't you?" He joked, resting his head against Geralt's shoulder. 

The other man snorted in amusement. "We'll take a bath later." 

"Will you be the one rubbing chamomile on my bum this time?" Jaskier asked cheekily, eyes squinty with happiness. Geralt rolled his eyes fondly and gave a sharp smack to said ass.

"Shut up, Jaskier." The bard laughed and kissed him softly. 

"I'll sing instead then..." He began, smiling at the Witcher. 

" _Toss a coin to you Witcher..."_


	4. A Siren's Call Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By now, i hope you all know that this is going to be a drabble series

There were tales that all pirates knew amongst the seas; tales of sea monsters and fair maidens that'll sooner drown you and eat you than take you to bed. Tales of creatures with voices like honey and beauty that rivals that of Aphrodite herself. 

"Strong headwinds ahead, Captain!" A woman yelled from the crow's nest. 

"Alright, you Maruaders, hoist those god forbidden sails, preferably before we tip over!" The Captain commanded.

Yennefer of Vengerberg, otherwise known as the Sorceress of the Eastern Seas, stood at the tiller, surveying the waters and her scurrying crew. Her second in command was her longtime friend and former lover, Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf and the Butcher of Blavviken. 

"A storm's brewing, Yen." He rumbled, coming to stand next to her with his arms crossed over his barrel wide chest. 

The witch rolled her eyes. "A storm's always brewing with you, Geralt." 

The older man hummed, but pointed to the distance, where thunder clouds could be seen; even with the vast distance between them, the water was choppy and the winds were picking up. 

"A literal storm, about a couple hours out." He replied flatly. 

Yennefer followed his hand to the storm clouds looming darkly in the East; she could hear the distant rumble of thunder and lightning. Frowning, she turned to her helmsman, Tissaia de Vries, and issued her commands. The titian haired woman took action immediately, yelling at the crew below to lower the sails and tie everything down to prepare for a change in course. 

Geralt huffed and leaned against the banister. "We're going to be several days of course, Yen." She knew that of course, but she also wasn't going to risk her ship being damaged in the dangerous water she knew were to come. The Sorceress told him as much. She turned around and walked into her quarters, Geralt following her. 

"What shall we do then? Find the closest island and wait it out?" He asked and moved to the nearest table, unraveling a map of the world. He traced the waters and tapped the spot where they were estimated to be. 

Yennefer grimaced and peered down at the parchment. She traced a path to the closest island and sighed as she realized where they would have to go. Pointing down at the tiny island, she turned away to avoid looking at the hulking man's expression. 

"You're shitting me." He replied as he looked up at her. His expression was of disbelief and humor. "Siren's Cove? That's the closest place to go?" 

"Unfortunately."

"And uh," He coughed to disguise his laughter. "Just how many people have died upon coming across this island?" Geralt's eyes had a mischievous spark to them when Yennefer turned back. She rolled her eyes at his knowing smirk. 

"Too many," She answered, snorting as she leaned on the table and gazed back down at the map. "But, we bring our own danger with us, don't we?" 

The White Wolf cocked a brow and smirked. 

"To Siren's Cove then." 


End file.
